When I Hit the Ground
by Miss Yvonne Hartman
Summary: Mirrorverse. Love blooms in the darkness when Oliver finds Lutessa, lost and broken. LuTollie, strong T for darker themes.


When I hit the Ground

Lutessa/Oliver

Mirrorverse. Love blooms in the darkness when Oliver finds Lutessa, lost and broken. LuTollie, strong T for darker themes.

AN: In my humble opinion, I thought the Lutessa/Clark Luthor thing was gross and stupid. Here's a LuTollie fix it for that ridiculous parallel world.

Very strong T. I don't own Smallville.

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Black balloons. There were black balloons hanging in the library and he was sitting in the wing chair, staring into the fire. Lutessa Luthor stood in the doorway, feeling that her pale yellow dress was suddenly inappropriate for the solemn, morbid mood of the drawing room. She had chosen it as her seventeenth birthday party dress, thinking it was the perfect mix of youth and frivolity and burgeoning womanhood. With her waterfall of red hair she looked incredible, but out of place. So terribly out of place.

"Father?"

Her voice was sudden in the gloom. He turned to look at her, his eyes fixing on her but not quite seeing. She was used to this, the way that he seemed to talk over her, like she was a phantom presence on the edges of his reality. Lutessa scanned his face, the wrinkles forming at his eyes, the thin lips that were both charming and cruel, the grizzled mane of grey hair. She finds it hard to think he is her father, in looks and disinterest. There is nothing in her features to hint at him. She hopes her character is even less parallel to his.

"Lutessa." He finally says, and for once she feels the full weight of his gaze. It makes her feel like she's drowning in the cool mercury of his eyes. She wants to look away. "Come here, child."

She walks slowly to his side. On the polished floor her heels ring sharply, making her wince. She steps closer, the fire crackled but no heat advanced into the space in front of the hearth. She wishes she had a jacket.

Lionel Luthor looked at her for a long minute and then took her slim hand in his huge palm, turning it over as if he was a palm reader. The contact burnt her skin. "When you were younger, Lutessa," he said slowly, "You ran off in the park. Your brothers, Clark and Lex were obedient, strong, true Luthors and they did not disobey me." Lutessa swallowed, unable to precisely recall the day, only the beating she had after it, and wondered where he was going with this story. "And when we found you, feeding the ducks with some common brat, I knew. I knew that you were… different. You didn't grasp the concepts of a true Luthor."

True Luthor, there it was again. She wanted to pull her hand away. "Sir, I was six."

"And here we are ten years on, and you are still just as disappointing."

"Father?" she did wrench her hand out of his grip. "I don't understand."

"My point exactly, Lutessa." He sighed and stood from his chair, making Lutessa take a step back as he passed her. "Since we tragically lost Lex, I have been faced with a decision a father shouldn't make. Which of my remaining children should go on."

"Go on?"

"For a greater, higher purpose. The company, the mansion, the Luthor Legacy."

Standing at the bar, Lionel poured himself a glass of scotch and turned back, talking above her as always.

"You're grades, Lutessa are average at best, your social connections diminishing through the riff raff you hang around with. You, Lutessa, are nothing marvellous and so I take my leave of you." Lutessa frowned. She had been second in her class and her best friend Sophie was most certainly not riff raff. Lionel finally looked at her, really looked at her and his grey eyes were like blades through her. "I want you out of the house. You show no qualities as a Luthor. You are no child of mine anymore. Lutessa I am through with you."

"But where am I going to go?" Lutessa demanded, her voice higher than normal. She wouldn't cry in front of him. But she was crumbling, feeling like her shoulders were collapsing in on themselves.

But her father was staring into the fire like she wasn't there, like he had already wiped her from the world. She stared at the black balloon, feeling more like a funeral than her birthday, and slowly walked backwards, out of the room before she ran down the hall and threw herself into her bedroom. She had to get out, she didn't have a home. She was just Lutessa now. Lutessa Nothing.

It felt like the walls were closing in on her, the blue light from the enormous windows making everything ghostly and odd. Lutessa threw her suitcase on her bed and ripped open her wardrobe, suddenly hating every item of lush, designer clothing. She pulled out a few dresses and shoes and hurled them with venom into her case. She could stay with Sophie. She could hitch hike. She could be murdered horribly and dragged out of a lake and she wonders, hopes, that Lionel Luthor would be haunted by guilt and misery in the wake of her tragic demise.

Still viciously fantasising about her perfect, horrific death, she looked up and froze, seeing her adopted brother Clark, reflected in the mirror. He was leaning in the doorway, smirking cruelly. She set her lips.

"What?" she directed, throwing satin undergarments on top of the case, a bottle of perfume, her current novel and wallet. "Happy now? The largest bedroom in the house, all yours."

"I don't care about the room. Only the person in it." He replied.

She rolled her eyes, looking for her phone on her desk. "Some consolation. Can you stop being the usual cryptic dick head that you are and say whatever you're here to say?"

Clark stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Lutessa straightened, her stomach tensing. Her relationship with Clark was odd. There was something in his eyes, something that hinted at an ocean of dark desire. He was handsome, strong and she didn't deny that she almost _liked_ the way he looked at her, with a hunger that made her feel squishy and warm. But he was also her brother and try as she may; she can't get over that slightly gross fact that made her keep her distance and avert her eyes at the last second before his gaze could catch her and be blushingly embarrassed about the dreams he appeared in, the things he did. It wasn't love and she didn't even want a relationship with him, of any kind, but like so much of her life, it was jagged and there was no way she could analyse it without smacking into her own, warped logic.

She watched him as he advanced towards her, his mouth in a complicated line. "It's a good thing you're leaving." He muttered.

She wanted to ask why, but he was kissing her, his mouth blazing and painful. She struggled against him but his superhuman grip kept her melded to him. Running out of air and in a state of near panic she bit the tongue that swept into her mouth and they broke apart with a cry.

"Bitch!" he slapped her.

She tried to step back but hit the bed, his hand on her chest, shoving her down. She bumped her head on the suitcase and tried to elbow him. "No!" she shouted, scratching, leaving deep red lines that healed over in seconds, his skin smooth again. "Clark! Stop it!"

"You stupid little slut. Always so coy." He was saying, his hands tearing at her, trying to force her thighs apart. "Always looking, always standing there, making me want you and so here I am."

"No." she sobbed, coiling away from him in terror. Flinging her arm back she blindly searched for something, anything, and closed her hand on the bedside lamp, swinging it into his head. The ceramic base broke and rained down shards on her face as Clark collapsed on top of her. "Mmph!" she kicked and somehow found the strength to roll him off her and sit up. She saw herself in the mirror. Her hair in a mess, make up streaked, her beautiful dress ripped. She left her suitcase and ran for it, out of the mansion, her heeled feet slipping on the gravel drive way, not stopping as she reached the main road and kept going.

Her breath was coming in short, pained inhalations, the side of her stomach cramping up as she kept running along the side of the road, terrified that Clark would be after her. She looked back as she reached the intersection, seeing nothing in the gloom, but bright lights ahead that made her panic and try to slow down to avoid being hit by a sleek red sports car. She braced for impact and slammed her hands on the bonnet as the driver pulled up in time.

Panting, amazed that she was still standing; Lutessa raised her head and stared into the driver's shocked face. She recognised him instantly, Oliver Queen. He was two years ahead of her at school, the son of her father's hated business rival. He wound the window down and stuck his head out.

"Are you crazy?" he shouted, and then frowned, realising it was her. "Lutessa? You look a mess! What happened?"

She stood up properly, and suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry. "Hey." He said, when he saw her tears, "Hey don't cry. I didn't hurt you. Just… get in, ok; I'll give you a lift."

She contemplated, nodded and walked to the passenger door and got in. the interior of his car was clean and crisp; she breathed a sigh and leant her head back. He looked at her sideways as he revved the engine. "You've really been through something, haven't you?" he remarked.

Lutessa didn't answer, closing her eyes against the streetlamp blurs of white light zipping past at speed and Oliver let her have her silence. Eventually though, he broke it to ask her needed questions. "So, where am I actually taking you?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked in response. "My father hates your father, you barely talk to me at school and I know you wouldn't spit on Clark if he was on fire." She paused, "Hell, I wouldn't spit on Clark if he was on fire but that's beside the point. Why be nice to me?"

Oliver Queen was one of the most handsome boys in their boarding school, strapping, swaggering and captain of the football team. She was used to seeing him with a gaggle of girls twittering around him like little finches, or with his laddish friends braying at some puerile joke. But here he was, just Oliver, driving with one hand on the wheel, looking calm and sensible in a simple dinner jacket, a world away from the miniature playboy.

He smirked as he pulled up at the traffic lights, "Because I saw you needed help and I couldn't conscionably leave you by the side of the road."

"How noble of you." She said dryly. "So what - school boy by day, good Samaritan by night?"

"Did you want help or not, Lutessa?" he shot in a heated tone. "You needed help, I helped you. And also, you're very pretty." He added with a smile. Their eyes met, green into brown and she smiled.

"Thank you." The lights changed. "Um… I don't know where to go."

He stared at the road, turning into a street, "Stay at my place." He decided. At her perplexed face he smiled, "You can get cleaned up, I'll order some food and you can tell me what happened." He pulled the car into the underground car park of a block of apartments. "This is my place, while I'm at school I stay here instead of the long commute from the Queen Mansion." He explained as they got out of his car.

"Oh." He said in surprise, getting a full look at her ripped dress and a bruise on her cheek. He shucked off his navy blazer and held it out to her. She took it gratefully and smiled again as he ushered her towards the elevator, rising up to the penthouse suite.

"The bathroom is that way; I'll go see if I have any clothes for you and then what are you hungry for? Thai?" he said, opening the door on a huge, beautiful apartment, lots of black leather sofas and green accents. "Ignore my mother's taste in decorating." He said, raising his eyebrows, "she thinks it's lush and grown up."

"I love it." Lutessa smiled and went to the bathroom, which was palatial in size and gleaming white marble. She ran the tap and could finally wash Clark's kiss out of her mouth and clean her face. She liked the warmth of Oliver's jacket, the smell of him in the cuffs. "What are you doing?" she asked herself. Here she was, seventeen, homeless, staying in a penthouse with the son of her family's enemy.

Except that the Luthor's weren't her family. She didn't have an enemy in Oliver Queen. She looked at her reflection and smiled, finally feeling calm for the first time that evening. There was a knock on the door and Oliver's muffled voice came through, "Have some clothes for you, they're actually a friend of mine's, Lois Lane, she always keeps spare clothes here, I don't know why!" she opened the door, he was holding out a pair of jeans and blue button up shirt. "Hope they're ok."

She accepted the clothes, thanking him. Lois Lane was the one girl Clark Luthor didn't have a chance with; she was so clearly and vocally disgusted with him. She set them down on top of the clothes hamper and ran the shower, stepping under the steaming water and letting it slough down her body. It felt so good to get clean. Oliver's soap was fresh and she could have happily stayed under the pounding water for hours. But she reluctantly turned off the tap and dried herself on an enormous, fluffy towel before dressing in the borrowed clothes and clipping up her hair.

When Lutessa returned to the main living area of Oliver's penthouse, he was dishing out serves of Pad Thai and stir fried vegetables and grinning, passed her a plate and glass of red wine.

"Hope this is ok." He said as they sat on opposite sides of the coffee table. He raised his glass, "To chance encounters." They drank.

"This is perfect." She smiled genuinely and took a bite.

He watched her eating for a minute, his gaze unyielding. "So. Talk. Tell me what makes the Luthor Heiress run through the streets like she's being chased by wolves."

"If Clark is a wolf then yes, I was running." She replied after a long pause. "Oliver… I really appreciate this. You saving me." She smiled, "My father doesn't want me. I was always his bastard child, a disgrace, and he finally decided that seventeen was a perfect age to ship out."

"Ship out?"

"Be disowned." She clarified, her hands starting to shake, "He was always so cold and I tried so hard to get him to notice me and love me but he… he only had eyes for Clark and he told me to get out… I'm not a Luthor."

"Family." He snorted in a scornful tone. "It's like my father! He's always holed up in his study, sends me to boarding school so he only has to see me at Christmas. Who needs them?"

"Yeah." She agreed. "I was packing and… Clark came in…" she trailed off, sickened, her whole body starting to tremble.

Oliver watched the sudden change in her, his blood growing cold. "No." he said, "Did he…? Lutessa, did he...?"

She shook her head, "He scared me. He kept, forcing himself at me and I… I hit him with the lamp. But no. He didn't do _that_."

Oliver was grinding his fist into his palm. "I'm going to kill him." He said, muscle in his jaw working.

She grabbed his hand across the table and shook her head. "Don't. I don't care. I don't want to ever go near them again." She said quickly. He eventually nodded and pushed his coffee away. "And anyway,_ Ultraman_ is too powerful. He'd hurt you and I wouldn't want that."

"Ultraman is a stupid name!" he said, stabbing at his Pad Thai.

"Tell me about it!" she laughed. They shared the wine and spent a good hour ridiculing her family as loudly and creatively as they could and Oliver was glad to see the colour come back to her thin face, the bright lights shine in her eyes.

"Lutessa."

She pulled a face, "I have always hated my name. Please call me Tess, ok?" He nodded, saying 'Tess' as though trying it out. He picked up her finished plate, taking it to the kitchen and she followed, getting distracted by the balcony. "Can I go out?" she asked, and at his nod opened the door and stepped onto the balcony. "You can see all of Metropolis from here." She whistled.

"Yeah." He came to stand beside her, looking over the dirty streets, the scent of food being cooked turned sour and meaty in the breeze, the crumpled newspaper that fluttered feebly in the gutter with other litter in the street below. "Look at this place." He said, "It's disgusting. Unemployment's through the roof, the city is a mess and there's no money coming in."

Tess nodded, "It's terrible." But even as she looked around, the bird's eye view of poverty and the gloom she knew were hanging in the street corners, she had no idea how she could make a difference. Her little body buffeted by strong winds, her voice lost to the storm. Somehow her hand had found Oliver's warm paw and she held tight, tethering herself back, to him and his smile.

"I want to change it. Do something good. One day I'll get Queen Industries and I'm gonna change it. I'll invest in human capital, start development for better buildings, better schools and hospitals. One day it will be a great city again." He said. He stopped, looking at her. "Before tonight… I used to see you at school, laughing with your friends and you never looked at me." She blushed, knowing that she had treated him mostly with disinterest, bound by her prejudice, "I always used to think it was such a shame. That you being a Luthor meant I could never talk to you." He reached out, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "And now… It's been a few hours and it's like everything in this world, in my life, is suddenly in focus."

She smiled, tilting her face up, some unfamiliar, warm sensation unfurling between the wings of her hips. Oliver leant down and kissed her. She kissed him back, hands on his shoulders, standing up on her toes. She loved it instantly, the way he knew to tilt her head with his hand and sweep his tongue gently over her lip. It was the first time she'd been kissed and not felt like she had to overcompensate on her side. He kissed her like lightening running through her and she knew, somewhere, that stars were falling.

"Oliver." She breathed his name when he pulled back, desperate for her, but more desperate for her and he kissed her again. "Oliver."

"Tess." He kissed her face, "Tess, can I keep you."

She wished he could. "Clark might come looking for me. He was so angry. Lionel won't care but… what's going to happen tomorrow, Oliver?" but she shook her head. There would time to think about that, time to plan and look for a job and start her life. But for now she was standing on top of the world with Oliver Queen, renamed and he was kissing her like starlight. For now she won't care about tomorrow.

_If I land beside you, when I hit the ground, I'm sure that we will find the greatest paradise. _

_Fin_

AN: The final line was slightly adapted from Ai Yazawa's amazing manga Paradise Kiss, vol. 3 'It's easy to fall down, but if I can stop… by your side… I'm sure we'll go to the greatest paradise', which is what inspired this piece.


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